The Sound of Great Wings
by Azahkhiel
Summary: The first time they met, he was four; and it felt like a dream


Author's Notes:

Hello there~

Yes. I'm still alive.

No. This story isn't posted to let you guys know I'm still alive.

Yeah... so, I know I haven't posted any stories for a long time. So many things got in the way. Life is a bitch. I fell into a major slump. Work. A threat of a mid-life crisis(of sorts. -ish. no, I'm not 50), Tumblr and a whole other troubling things which is why I haven't been able to update my other story The Last Sky. Don't worry though, the next chapter is already about 70% done. I hope I can finish it before this month ends.

As for this story here, this is a story I've had in mind since summer. it's supposed to be a mutli-chapter story, probably more or less five chapters but I've only managed to finish writing this before I fell into my slump so I've left it in my folder for a long time until I saw it again and decided to continue it. But updates will be really slow since I'm still busy IRL.

Anyways, that's all for now. I hope you guys enjoy this one.

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Chapter 1

The first time they met; he was four; and it all felt like a dream.

He had fallen asleep by his mother's bed after spending the afternoon talking about everything and anything that happened on his day just as he always did every day he came. The scent of spring wafted through the large windows of the hospital room and the feel of the sunlight falling through the white curtains was warm and comfortable enough that he hadn't been able to resist taking a nap. His mother, a petite woman with the same hair as his and gentle blue eyes that always seemed too bright and happy for a woman in her condition, had laughed lightly as he looked up at her sleepily and coaxed him to take a nap with the promise to wake him up an hour before he had to leave.

However, just as he has snuggled up to his mother, hovering somewhere between the land of the wake and the world of dreams, he had sensed something strange. A weird sensation passed over his body as if someone was looking at him and although it didn't feel unpleasant, it wasn't exactly pleasant either. The disturbance seemed to have been sensed by his mother as well since the soothing voice of his mother humming a tune he had known for as long as he could remember trailed off and the feel of her long, pianist fingers running gently through his hair stopped mid-way.

He then heard voices, soft and quiet voices speaking in hushed tones. But he was far too gone from the world of consciousness to decipher the meaning of the soft tones in which they were used and as he tried to resist the sweet bliss of slumber, he felt his mother's voice speak weakly, her words coming out in a breathy whisper, before he felt her gentle fingers entangled in his hair slacken and slowly fall over down to the side of his head with an inaudible thud.

And then, silence...

The sudden loss of contact from his mother and the foreboding silence it brought instantly rang alarm bells in his mind and as if every thread of drowsiness that pulled him to the world of dreams was suddenly snapped off, he opened his eyes, not even bothering to blink away the blurriness sleep brought upon his sight, and immediately looked up to face his mother.

Her eyes, her beautiful, sapphire blue eyes that shone with so much life, had dulled to a powdery hue before they closed shut, and her pale face framed by flowing silver hair illuminated by the orange rays of the afternoon sun met his eyes and he straightened back, feeling his breath hitch at the alarming lack of movement from his mother.

He moved forward, tiny hands reaching out to grasp his mother's gentle ones, in hopes of getting a reaction from her, to call her back to the world of consciousness. But just as he had managed to hold her hands in his, he felt the sudden shift in the air, almost like a gentle gust of wind, and then he heard it: the sound of flapping, quiet and steady, permeating the silence before it quickly disappeared. Turning around to find the source, he whipped his head to look around the room and was surprised when something small and white flew into his vision, fluttering in the air for a moment before falling down and settling beside his mother's free hand.

"_A feather?"_

He had wanted to touch it, in that split second he had seen it fluttering in front of him, before noticing that there were more of them hovering in the air around him like dancing snow that glowed with the afternoon sun's orange rays falling on them through the white curtained-window. However, the wonder and awe he had felt the moment he saw the feathers disappeared when he followed their source and saw a dark figure standing by his mother's bed from the corner of his eye.

Suddenly remembering his mother's eerily still hand still grasped within his own, he quickly turned towards the dark figure, his gaze setting firmly upon it, and the words he had been wanting to say spewed from his mouth.

"_What happened to my mother?"_

His voice had come out raspy from having been asleep and slightly breathy – as if he had run a marathon – from the quickly growing panic in his chest, but it had resounded throughout the room, amplified by the silence. The figure, tall and whose face was darkened by the shadows casted by the afternoon sun's rays, seemed taken aback by his words and took a step back in surprise allowing the sun's rays to fall upon its face for a moment, giving him a glimpse of widened, warm, amber eyes locking with his flickering in surprise for a couple of seconds...

...and then it was gone.

Surprised at the sudden disappearance of the figure, he had turned his head towards the rest of the room, his emerald green eyes roaming each and every corner looking for the tall figure of a man wearing black but there was no one. Even the beautiful, snowy-white feathers that danced in the air had disappeared.

Confusion mingled with disappointment surged within him as he turned back to look at his mother, who had been eerily silent throughout the whole spectacle, in hopes of getting an answer. However, what met him was the pale face of his beautiful mother, a ghost of a smile still lingering in her lips as her eyes remained closed and her body unmoving and limp and seemingly _lifeless_.

Slowly, gingerly, he had squeezed his mother's soft hand in his tiny ones, still feeling the warmth in them despite the lack of movement and life, and watched in fear and worry how not even a single flinch or jerking movement came from his mother. It was only after a moment of silence had passed did he realize, understanding slowly dawning in his young mind as a suddenly emptiness emerged within him, that his mother was gone.

And he was all alone.

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Author's Notes:

And there you go, a new story. If you have the time, please review so that I'd know what you think of it, or if there are any mistakes, grammar, spelling, and the like; please don't hesitate to tell me. This story doesn't have a beta so any critiques, opinions and suggestions are highly appreciated


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